Pool_1

Zee Zee had taken to the projects prowling for new ground to soil, perhaps, that is if his brain had that much capability. Now he was gone and one could hear fragments in hushed gossip, buzz buzz buzz OMEGA buzz buzz buzz SCAR buzz buzz buzz Zee Zee. You'd think that with a riot imminent, there would be angst in the air, grim faces, hands wringing, or signs of dread. No. It was more like bees hovering among flowers with whispered buzzing. "So, is it true?" Marcus asked over the blithe undertone, "Is Zee Zee, uh, you know?" Handing over a switch blade that had two Z's carved in the handle, "Here. Practice with this," Washington replied nonchalantly. "Whoa!" Marcus reacted oddly but couldn't resist taking it. Benson was looking all around as if taking a head count of those who were arriving, not even acknowledging his friend's hanging jaw shock at an unexpected legacy. He couldn't miss the grisly curiosity, from the side of his eye, that was fondling forbidden steel. Practicing those deadly moves was weirdly titillating and somehow addictive. It was easy to see how a weak mind would not know where lines were to be drawn while wielding such a menacing device. "Never could do yo-yo tricks. This I can do? I guess that means I'll be a surgeon," was his final analysis, "Quick deft hands!" He practiced out of curiosity laced with fascination, but always there was this intractable presence behind the eye. That was the description given later by a pedagogue. Doctor Ramus, professor of medicine, glared at the oddly confident medical student with relish, a new victim to intimidate. The pretentiously demanding Ramus thrilled to intimidating neophytes. Macaluso was now in line to be fresh meat into his grinder. With deep contempt, "How do you know you are cut out to be a surgeon...",